


winter stretching into spring

by glim



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-05 02:31:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17316395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glim/pseuds/glim
Summary: Wednesday morning, Bucky brings Steve the most ridiculous coffee he can get him at Starbucks, a Cinnamon Dolce Latte with extra whipped cream and cinnamon, and he swears he's never seen anyone's eyes look so fucking blue that early in the morning.





	winter stretching into spring

**Author's Note:**

> Written to fill the 'high school/college au' square on my Trope Bingo Card for Round 12.

It's not that Bucky hates high school, god, it's not even that he hate _this_ high school in particular. He's just really fucking sick of changing schools and changing classes and teachers and joining clubs. 

Oh my god, the _clubs._

Bucky rubs a hand over his face and looks at the Student Activities Calendar on his phone with a sense of resigned doom. He promised his mom and dad and his guidance counselor that he'd make an effort to do something other than graduate this year. He might even try out for the baseball team; at least that's something he knows he already enjoys. 

He gives the calendar one last look, frowns, and texts his sister. Even though it sucks coming into a new school in the middle of his senior year, it has to suck worse for Becca right now. It's the middle of her freshman year, she'd been perfectly content at the junior high school back in Indiana, and she already hates New York. 

So, yeah, Bucky's either just going to join whatever clubs she wants to join in case she wants company, or he'll stay after on the same days she does so they can go home together. 

_Art club_ , Becca texts him back. _It's Thursday and I'm staying for Art Club. You might as well come or you'll just end up moping._

Right. Art Club it is, then. At least it's not Drama Club, Bucky figures, and pockets his phone before heading to the lunch room.

*

The Art Room is a tumble of half-finished canvases and papers and paints and, towards the back, a ceramics kiln. Becca looks uncertain, but pleased, and even smiles when Bucky comes to sit next to her.

"Thanks for staying," she says, and offers him a bottle of Coke. "That's for you." 

"You didn't need to get me anything, Bex," he says. She smiles again and Bucky feels some of the worry in his chest disappear. 

"Well, I started it for you anyway. And I ate the chips I was going to give you, so." Becca shrugs, and takes another sip from the Coke before handing it over to Bucky. 

Bucky laughs at that, and slouches down in his seat next to Becca in the Art Room. Most of the kids here are typical art kids, but there's a decent enough variety that Bucky doesn't feel any more out of place here than anywhere else in the school. There's the people who are here to actually make art, the ones who are here because their friends make art, and the ones who look like they wanted something else to put on their college applications. 

"Hey..." One of the College Application guys walks over to Becca and offers her a clipboard. "Here's the sign-in sheet. Then I can show you the mosaic I started, and you can help me out since you're new?" 

"Thanks." Becca signs the sheet and gives the guy a seriously relieved look before passing the sheet over to Bucky. "He's the Art Club president." 

"He's the--" Bucky stops in the middle of signing his name and looks up. This guy looks more like he's going to play quarterback for some Big East school, not like he's going to sit around painting landscapes or making mosaics. "Ah, hey," Bucky offers when the guy frowns at him. "Uh, I'm... James." 

The guy frowns again, then gives this stupid smile that make his blue eyes light right the fuck up. "Steven. Well, Steve is fine. Or, whatever. I think we have a class together?" 

"Honestly, I have no idea. I barely found this room." Bucky hands the clipboard back to Steve and gets another smile from Steve. 

"Glad you did. Here, let me show you what we're working on..." 

Bucky takes a long, long drink from the cold soda before he puts his backpack aside, rolls up the sleeves on his flannel, and follows Steve to the back of the Art Room.

*

"I guess we have _two_ classes together," Steve says as soon as he spots Bucky in the auditorium lobby the next morning.

Bucky smoothes a hand down his uniform and tries not to stare at Steven G. Rogers, Art Club Guy, standing right in front of him at the JROTC battalion formation. He looks... well, he looks really good in that uniform and he even looks happy to be wearing the uniform. 

Not that Bucky minds--he's going into the Army after high school, anyway--but Steve just looks really damn proud. 

"You going into the military after this?" Bucky asks after formation is done and they're walking back to their homerooms together. 

Steve shrugs. "I don't know. My dad's Army, but I always figured I wasn't really right for it. I'm hoping for art school, but we're waiting to see what financial aid packages I get. You?" 

"Yeah, Army. Engineering, probably, too." Bucky waits for Steve's reaction, and then finds himself smiling when Steve tips his head to the side with a thoughtful look. "What?" 

"I can see that." 

"No way. We have ROTC and what... English together?" 

"See, you _do_ remember." Steve bumps his shoulder against Bucky's, then gives him another warm smile. "I don't know, you wear that uniform alright."

Well, fuck, Bucky decides, and lets something like sunshine spread right through his chest and keep him smiling through the rest of the day.

*

February in New York City is _awful_. Grey and cold, with refrozen slush on the corners and an icy wind whistling through the buildings. Bucky fumbles at his locker combination, fingers still clumsy with cold, and tries to remember what he has due that Monday.

"You look like you walked here." Steve leans in against the row of lockers next to Bucky's, looking Monday-morning sleepy. 

"And you don't?" Bucky stuffs his coat into his locker, then gives Steve another look. 

Steve shrugs. His ears and nose are pink from the cold and he has on a heavy, navy blue winter coat that he still looks ready to huddle down into. His blond hair is messy, like he just tugged off his hat, and he has his glasses on instead of his contacts. 

And yeah--Bucky already knows that about Steve, that he usually wears contacts, but sometimes glasses, that he carries an inhaler in his backpack even though he rarely needs it these days, and that he really does have his heart set on going to art school. 

In exchange, he's told Steve how much he misses the midwest, how he's more worried about his sister getting through this semester than he is himself, and how the arm he broke freshman year still hurts when it's this damp and cold. 

"You just look extra angry at winter this morning," Steve says. He rests one hand on Bucky's back as Bucky leans away from the locker, then flushes up even more pink over his ears when Bucky leans right into that touch. 

"It's not so bad," Bucky murmurs. He holds Steve's gaze for a few seconds, long enough to give Steve a soft smile, and then stays close to Steve while he bangs his locker shut.

*

Tuesday morning, Steve brings Bucky a hot chocolate and a ham, egg, and cheese on a bagel.

"You don't eat breakfast," he says when Bucky just stares at it. 

"How do you even know that?" Bucky stares at the sandwich a while longer, then up at Steve for a few seconds. 

"Okay, I didn't eat breakfast this morning, and I thought you might like something, too." 

Steve goes all sweet and shy and there is nothing, absolutely nothing in Bucky that can resist that smile and the way Steve shrugs that swoop of blond hair out of his eyes. 

"Yeah, alright. Thanks," Bucky says.

They eat outside Steve's homeroom, and right before the bell, Steve brushes the back of his hand against Bucky's.

*

Wednesday morning, Bucky brings Steve the most ridiculous coffee he can get him at Starbucks, a Cinnamon Dolce Latte with extra whipped cream and cinnamon, and he swears he's never seen anyone's eyes look so fucking blue that early in the morning.

*

Thursday, Steve's already at Bucky's locker when he gets there in the morning. They agreed to grab food at the corner pizza place before Art Club that afternoon, and Bucky smiles as he remembers. He'll have Steve all to himself on the way to and from from the pizzeria.

The hallway's empty aside from him and Steve, quiet enough that the opening of his locker echoes down the hall. 

"Hey," Steve says. He looks tired and a little nervous, and he runs his hand through his already messy hair. 

"Hey, Stevie," Bucky says, the nickname on his lips before he has a chance to stop himself. 

Steve smiles instead of rolling his eyes this time, though, and he relaxes as he leans against the row of lockers. 

"Mr. Rossi said we could get pizza for Art Club today, and I said you'd come with me to pick them up." 

Bucky nods, grabs his Calc book, and drops it into his backpack next to his laptop. "Sure. Did you still want to come over and go through notes for _King Lear_ tonight, too?" 

"Yeah, I do. I really--" Steve stops and his hand touches Bucky's shoulder. When Bucky doesn't move, he strokes his thumb against Bucky's shoulder and a tiny frown creases between his eyebrows. "I really, _really_ do." 

"Yeah? Me, too," Bucky replies. His mouth goes unexpectedly dry and nervous anticipation gathers in his stomach, and all he can think is that he should've brought Steve another fluffy, sweet drink from Starbucks. 

About a half second later, he's not thinking about _anything_. Because he's kissing Steve. He's _kissing_ Steve. And Steve's lips feel soft and warm against his own, a little chapped, and they curve into a smile when he pulls away from Bucky. 

"Okay, good. I was hoping so." He smiles again, and kisses Bucky once more on the lips, quick and sweet, before the sound of steps echoes down the high school corridor.

*

Friday after school, Bucky sprawls himself over Steve's neatly made bed and listens while Steve talks to his mom in the kitchen. She's on her way to work the night shift at the hospital and Steve's being really sweet--telling her about school and Art Club and Bucky.

Bucky rubs both hands over his face and yawns. He had two tests and a paper due this week, which means he's probably slept a total of twelve hours since Monday night. He could probably fall asleep right here on Steve's warm bed, face pressed into the pillows that smell just like his boyfriend. 

Right, _boyfriend_. A month of hallway kisses and Steve's hand in his own as they walk to class, of Steve resting his head against Bucky's shoulder in the library when he's too tired to keep studying, and of Bucky kissing the taste of whipped cream and cinnamon from Steve's mouth before that first warning bell rings in the morning. 

He's almost ready to fall back asleep when he hears Steve pad back into the bedroom, then feels him sit down on the bed next to Bucky. 

"Ma says she wants to do something for your birthday. Is that okay? I told her you're going out with your family on Sunday, but... if you want to come over for dinner one night, she and Dad will cook." 

"You mean, your Dad will cook, and your Ma will offer us soda because it's special for my birthday or something like that..." Bucky yawns and stretches, and then pulls Steve down to lie next to him. He kisses Steve deep and full and sort of sloppy, right on the mouth, then just keeps on kissing him again and again, until Steve sounds a little breathless. 

Steve only moves away for a moment, though, then slides his fingers through Bucky's hair and pulls him in for another kiss. Bucky sinks right into the kiss, into the warmth and closeness of Steve's body, and all he can see from here until graduation is winter stretching into spring and all the time he's going to spend with Steve.


End file.
